


WHAT THE FUCK RIGHT NOW

by bauer



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Barebacking, F/M, Promiscuity, Spitroasting, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 14:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7537225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bauer/pseuds/bauer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>P.K. a une veine de cocu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	WHAT THE FUCK RIGHT NOW

**Author's Note:**

> The amount of trades I have jinxed into existence... far too much. Sorry about that.
> 
> This takes place in an alternative universe where there are no unintended consequences of forgoing condoms, bc #pornlogic. My French is pretty much nonexistent, so please tell me if I messed it up.
> 
> Title to Kanye, "Freestyle 4," by way of Tyler's remix.

P.K. gets traded on June 29th. For one red-hot second, he is at a loss of words. Then he snaps out of it, makes a few necessary phone calls, does some equally necessary work on twitter, and films a video, before letting the crew to distract him. 

On June 30th, he exhausts the extent of his French, pays for some beautiful people’s taxis, makes himself a sangria, and settles in on his hotel room’s balcony with his Mac. He Googles himself, reads his mentions, combs through a mountain of responses. For once, it feels oh so sweet. _Vindicating._

Along with a million other little nasty emotions he knows better than to feed. Really, he does.

He switches to messages, although they aren’t much different. More people are waking up inside, and they’re starting the party up from where it ended last night. Which is fine, it’s great, that’s why P.K. likes traveling in groups in the first place, but he is also emotionally mature enough to realize when he’s getting a little overwhelmed. He’s weighing the benefits of doing something chill like wine tasting in the French countryside for the day or something when a name catches his eye.

 

> **Bonjour. I notice you are in Paris. Me and my girl are also in Paris. We should meet up if you’re free**
> 
> **This is Ryan Johansen BTW**

 

P.K. doesn’t remember exchanging numbers, but they must have somewhere, somehow. Mostly he just gets an annoyed twinge at the thought of playing against him, but, well, that isn’t going to be happening anymore.

Johansen also sent his hotel location. It’s a nice party of the city. Even if the guy proves to be just as unbearable off the ice, P.K. could spend some good money. 

“P.K., you coming in? We’re trying to get some more champagne,” someone sticks his head out to ask.

“Nah,” P.K. says, mind made up. “A new teammate is the city, I’m gonna go visit. Go on without me.”

 

∴

 

P.K. finds Johansen at his hotel’s indoor pool, feet dangling in as he laughs and records a head floating in the water. The pool is otherwise empty, so he notices when P.K. walks in. He’s up immediately, all smiles, tossing his phone onto a chaise and yelling, “P.K.! Welcome to the team, dude. I’d hug you, but I don’t know if chlorine and cashmere would get along.”

“Good eye. I appreciate that, buddy, I appreciate that.” They settle for gripping hands, thumbs hooked around each other.

P.K. almost feels bad about sizing up Ryan (“Joey, at team things, but this isn’t really a team thing, you know?”) with how cool he’s being. The floating head is introduced as Cam, who has a very pretty, round face that’s hard to put an age to and long, water-slick blonde hair. She lingers long enough to be polite before kicking back to swim some laps along the length of the pool, casual but measured. Ryan seems content to let her go. There’s a level of forced casualness to go with the pink elephant in the room, but the conversation still builds easily enough between them.

They’ve been talking for awhile, Ryan needling at P.K. for information on the Stamkos situation, when Cam’s splashing stops. P.K. glances up just in time to see her climb out of the opposite end of the pool. Her white one piece only hints at conservation, as transparent and teasing as a wet t-shirt would have been. P.K. barely lets himself register how _scorching_ she is before he rips his appreciative gaze away. Casually. 

Ryan is still watching her, hungry, when P.K. looks back at him. Still, Ryan must have caught something because he asks, “She’s hot, right?”

Now that is a loaded question. One with many different correct answers, depending on the guy and the situation and the fact the _she_ is getting closer every second. P.K. just barely decides on his answer when Ryan continues—

“You wanna fuck her?” 

Just like that, the good mood vanishes. P.K. is _angry_ all over again, and it takes effort to keep his voice flat as he says, “No, I’m not going to steal your girl, if that’s what this is about.” 

“What? No, I—”

Cam arrives then, and interrupts to say, “Did he say something? I told you not to say anything.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, wringing her hair out over Ryan’s stomach. He flinches and kicks out. She dodges. He wipes the water off him and throws the towel at her face. She laughs, then turns to P.K., eyes warm, and says, “I'm sorry. You should come up to our room and let us undo the damage. I promise he means well. Please.” 

So P.K. goes, because why the fuck not.  

Their room is filled with lush reds and cream and wood, like Ryan had Googled “most romantic hotels Paris” before booking it. P.K. can’t really blame the man, it has quite an effect, but also doesn’t lessen P.K.’s feeling of _intruder!._ He feels even more abandoned in hostile territory when Cam announces she needs to rinse off.

“Please explain. Use your big boy words,” she says to Ryan, patting his cheek. She smiles at where P.K.’s leaning against the wall one last time before disappearing into the bathroom.

Ryan flops onto the couch. He glances at the chair opposite him, like he considered offering P.K. a seat before deciding against it. Ryan looks uncomfortable, but not angry or even his usual cocky, and that does something to ease P.K.’s nerves. “So,” Ryan finally says. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was accusing you of anything. Sorry about that. I _was_ trying to offer something. Us. Her. I mean, it’s a joint decision or whatever, but she’s the bigger draw here. You saw her. The swimsuit.” Ryan trails off, like he’s run out of things to say without feedback.

“So, what, Cam’s into you going around, offering her up?” P.K. finally says.

“Well, yeah,” he says, affronted, like it should be obvious. “ _She_ does the offering a lot. I just saw you looking at her and I was like, ‘Oh, look, here’s something for us to agree on.’ Which obviously didn’t work great.”

“And you this happens a lot?” P.K. asks, the picture starting form in his head..

Ryan shifts, shrugs. “In general? Yeah. Like, pretty much every chance we get. We’ve slept with a few teammates, too, a few in Nashville and back in Lumbus.”

Okay. Fair enough. P.K. nods and says, “Do you mind if I talk to Cam?”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

P.K. knocks and waits a few moments before entering the en suite, but he doesn’t think Cam even makes an effort to cover herself. She’s stark naked, used towels tossed everywhere, all wide eyes and full hips and soft lips and, fuck, yes, alright, P.K. wants to fuck her. But first— 

P.K. means to make small talk, get acquainted with the person he’s probably going to be sleeping with in the next hour or so, what sort of dynamic he’s getting himself into, but he gets distracted by the ring that’s made its way onto Cam’s left hand. It’s understated, compared to the obvious gesture of the hotel room they’re in, but Cam wears it well.

“Is the ring new?” P.K. asks, wondering how long they’ve been in Paris, if congratulations were in order.

Cam doesn’t stop detangling her hair, raking the comb through impatiently while watching P.K. in the mirror. “Nah. He proposed last year, when he started getting jumpy about trades. The rush died off when he got traded within the states, since that didn't end up affecting my plans very much. He’s a little impulsive, but it’s worked out pretty good so far. He’s good for shit like that,” she says, significantly. P.K. nods along, hint acknowledged. “Did he explain our situation to you?”

“More or less. It seemed like he was holding back a little.”

She pulls a face, but doesn’t look too surprised. “Not much to say, honestly. I enjoy getting fucked by men other than my fiancé. My fiancé enjoys watching me fuck other men. We would enjoy you being one of those men, if you’re interested.” She finally puts her brush down and turns to P.K., face open but expectant.

As soft as Cam looks, she’s actually pretty ripped. P.K. learns this when he feels her obliques flexing under his hand. “Well, who am I to turn a beautiful lady down?”

She huffs, and chirps, “I’m already naked, P.K., you don’t have to worry about charming me.”

“What, you aren't even married yet and the romance is already dead?” he responds, letting his hands drift up to cup her tits. They're a nice handful, and then some.

Cam laughs, then rolls her shoulders back, chin up. “Ah, nous sommes à Paris, no? Expedites the process a little.”

“Is that so?” He thumbs across the hard peak of her nipple, pinching it lightly when she barely responds. That gets a sharp intake and a raised eyebrow, even as P.K. massages away the sting. 

“Just to be clear,” she says, voice even. “The offer is me _and_ Ryan, with him at least watching.”

“I’m familiar with such arrangements,” P.K. says. That does surprise Cam, but it's a happy surprise. “What does Ryan want to do?”

“We should go ask him,” she responds, backing out of P.K.'s touch to drag him back out.

Their hotel room is less intimidating this time around, more obviously a pit stop for two messy people on vacation than a fortress of romance. They find Ryan reclined on the bed, rubbing himself through fresh cotton shorts and fiddling with his phone. He jolts up when the door shuts behind them, phone tossed aside. 

“Rude,” Cam says, before leaving P.K.’s side to straddle Ryan’s lap… and keeps going, bowling him over until she’s somehow behind him and he’s all turned around. Ryan’s going in for the counter-strike when Cam announces, _“I think_ you two should discuss what you’re planning to do to me.”

“Really? Sweet,” Ryan says before twisting back to P.K.. to ask, “Do you have any preferences?”

He’s so casual about it, like they’re talking about a split appetizer, and Cam’s just lying back there waiting for them to make a decision. It makes P.K. feel a little guilty when his dick twitches.  

“Hey, man, she’s your fiancée.” P.K. isn’t always so delicate when he’s invited into someone else’s bedroom, but this would be awfully fucking early to be making things awkward in the Predators’ locker room.

Cam scoffs, like that was a ridiculous qualifier, but Ryan barrels ahead. It feels like the right answer until Ryan says, “Don’t laugh.”

“Christ,” Cam mutters. 

P.K. is very worried about Ryan not being as hesitant to bring out heavy kink on the first date, but when Ryan says, “I just really want to Eiffel Tower her in Paris,” it feels like the most obvious thing ever. 

P.K. laughs, and when P.K. asks what end he gets to be on, Ryan gets all wide-eyed and says, “Oh, you’ll want to fuck her properly. Babe, come here.” 

Cam rolls upward languidly, kneeing up next to Ryan, back facing P.K.. She throws out a casual, “You should get naked,” before Ryan’s bending her at the waist, pulling her knees apart. 

P.K.’s jaw _aches_. He wants to bury his face in her for hours.

“She’s really pretty, isn’t she?” Ryan says, running his fingers across where she’s smooth and slick and flushed pink. He slides a finger in, easy, before going back to press at her clit, making her arch into it. “So ready for it, any time.” 

But Ryan’s not even looking at Cam. He’s eyeing P.K. strip off his clothes (who’s careful to drape them over acceptable surfaces, of course), not without hunger. P.K. figured that Ryan edged closer to the not-gay-if-it’s-a-threeway ideology, but he’s not one to turn away for extra attention. He might stand there for an extra few seconds, preening, before walking up to them.

Ryan watches him, and P.K. looks right back as he pulls Ryan’s hand away from Cam. P.K. brings Ryan’s fingers up to his mouth, sucks them in and smiles when Ryan groans. He lets go of Ryan’s hand to slap at Cam’s ass, softly, just enough to watch it jiggle. “Yeah, Cam’s pretty sweet. Ah could just to eat her right up,” P.K. says, trying out his Southern accent. Gonna have to work on that one in the next couple weeks.

Ryan practically jumps into action, coaxing Cam further up on the bed and pushing her shoulders down on the bed, arching her back. Ryan’s lying next to her, whispering nasty shit P.K. can barely make out, making her moan and nod along.

P.K. lets them talk, focusing on Cam’s ass again. It’s thick, muscular, soft-yet-solid as the rest of her. P.K. could have a decent time just playing with it, digging his fingers in and spreading her open. But he can’t resist Cam’s little sighs, the way she’s pushing back into P.K.’s hands, presenting herself. He spreads her open with his thumbs and dives in tongue-first. Doesn’t bother much teasing, skipping straight to figuring out how to best make her scream. He really has to work to keep her still, and that just makes moans vibrating in his ears, the wetness on his face, even hotter.

Cam’s encouragements get muffled and are replaced by the wet, gurgling sounds of giving head. Ryan picks up where she left off, and under his guidance, P.K. doesn’t stop until Cam’s thighs are trembling.

P.K. rubs her through her orgasm, taking in the way Ryan’s cradling Cam’s head, holding her hair back in a gentle fist, as she sucks Ryan’s dick, slow and precise and _deep_. “She’s pretty good at that, eh?” he says conversationally, killing time until she’s less sensitive.

“She’s alright,” Ryan says, voice tight, the way assholes do when they mean _perfect_.

P.K. hums, sure, before sliding a finger into Cam’s pussy. She pushes back onto it, so wet and ready. He comes to a conclusion before Ryan can even open his mouth about it. He grabs onto her hip with one hand and guides his dick with the other, pressing the head up against it. “What do you think, Cam, you ready for this dick? You really want it?” P.K. asks, just to hear her beg around Ryan’s dick.

She’s perfect to slide into, hot and slick and _tight_ , practically sucking him in. P.K. lets out an appreciative groan and she squeezes around him in response. He sets a quick rhythm, one that’s great for him and good enough for her to distract her from her work on Ryan. Ryan doesn’t seem to mind, thrusting into her mouth at a similar rhythm. 

P.K.’s just getting really into it when Ryan hisses, “Dude, high-five me.” He thinks me must have misheard him, but he looks up from watching Cam’s ass bounce against him to see Ryan’s hand hovering between. Something on his face must show his disbelief, because Ryan huffs and says, “Come on, it’s the whole thing. We gotta high-five for it to count.”

Any other time, P.K. would have laughed. This time, he huffs and lets go of Cam’s hips long enough to slap hands with Ryan. As soon as the act is complete, Ryan drops back and pulls out of Cam’s mouth, jerking himself a few times before coming on her face He slides it all into her mouth with his fingers, muttering mindless “So good, baby, so good”s before bending down to kiss himself off her tongue.

P.K. never really had plans to drag this out, and that sight sped along the process any more. He’s falling out of rhythm when he finally grunts out, “Should I come in her?”

“Please,” Ryan says, and P.K. glances up again to see Cam nod into the mattress. He gives up any pretense of control, grinding into her deep, uneven strokes. Ryan’s a lot closer all of a sudden, holding Cam open so they can properly watch P.K. sliding in and out of her. Ryan seems practically hypnotized by it, and his fingers are tracing where P.K. and Cam meet when P.K. finally comes.

P.K. sits back on his heels when he’s finished, and Cam flops forward onto her belly, toes flexing. He’s just about to offer to get her off again when Ryan takes over the job, manhandling her until he can slide his face between her legs. He has her rolling against him in a minute, tired moans starting up again, and honestly, the image of a new teammate eating his come out of his fiancée’s cunt is going to is going to be on P.K.’s mind for awhile, too.

Ryan eats her until she’s thrashing, and then until she goes limp after that. He rolls to the side when she’s done with a sigh, and the mood finally simmers down a typical, post-sex drowsiness.

After a moment, P.K. says, “Well, that was fun.”

“Totally,” Ryan agrees.

Cam grunts.

Ryan laughs, and somehow motivates himself to go find clean towels in the bathroom. P.K. watches him go, and then lies down next to Cam to say, “Hey, are you good? You didn’t say much once we got going.”

“Oh, yeah,” Cam says, raising her head to look at P.K.. She’s flushed red but relaxed, sharper than would have been after all that. Then she gets a sly look and says, “Usually it’s Ryan who doesn’t get to say much during this. I was just enjoying my night off.”

“Oh really?” P.K. says, reshuffling his understanding of their relationship once again.

She shrugs and flops back against the bed. “He likes fronting in front of teammates sometimes. It would probably be different if you wanted in again.”

“Huh.”

Then Ryan comes back with the towels. P.K. does some cursory cleaning up but, as enjoyable as Ryan and Cam’s company had been, he’s already itching to get back to his hotel, his people. They both make offers for him to stay, sleep, have lunch but it’s a polite formality.

P.K. does listen when Cam says, “Ryan and I are heading to Greece after this. You should call us up if you head that way, since you didn’t get the full Atkinson-Johansen treatment. Neither of us have even sucked your dick yet!”

Ryan makes some agreeing sounds, and P.K. figures, again, why the fuck not. He says, “I might be making a stop in Mykonos.”

Cam grins, all sunshine and rainbows, and replies, “Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> P.K. and Cam did both go to Paris and Mykonos this summer, although I don't think their trips actually overlapped. RIP.
> 
> [Actual porn ft. whining tumblr here.](http://ratbarnaby.tumblr.com)


End file.
